A Moment of Clarity
by storytelllaur
Summary: A final conversation between two friends who've lost their ways, in the midst of the end. [Super Paper Mario Oneshot]
**A/N: Uh, hi there, Fanfiction. I've had this account forever and haven't posted anything. I've got a lot of old SPM drabbles saved because I love this game to death, but a lot of those are unfinished or just...very very not good at this point. But I figured I may as well contribute to the small fandom of this game. And this got out of hand. Fast. And got super sappy, my gosh. I can do better, but I just love thinking of the relationship between these two. I apologize.**

 **Uh, yep. I'll write better when I'm not mostly asleep. Hope at least somebody enjoys...?**

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There were five people standing around the kitchen table they'd appropriated as a dining place. It wasn't clear why they were speaking here as opposed to their usual room-perhaps because this was not a formal meeting, but rather a final, informal briefing between a few people thrown together by fire, wishing each other luck before what would certainly be the end, one way or the other. Or perhaps it was simply because they'd been in the process of eating dinner when the alarm went off, indicating an anomaly in this dimensional fabric-that the Purity Heart was complete, that they were _vulnerable._

Regardless, they stood in silence for a few moments after the announcement was made. They were all sitting or standing at their usual places, with varying expressions of hope and anxiety.

The administrator was standing behind her chair nearest the door, fidgeting with the clipboard she'd written down final plans they all knew on. She looked visibly fearful for one of the few times in her life, and stood with her shoulders slumped, as if all of the worlds' burdens had been dropped on her at once.

The trickster was to her left, bouncing in her seat in anticipation. She was one of those whose eyes were full of hope-who did not know the true outcome of this venture. It was clear her brain was going a million miles an hour, going over the traps she'd set for their enemies.

Then came the magician. His smile was hollow. His eyes were calculating. For the first time, he didn't seem completely carefree.

There was an open seat next to him, as if they were representing the one they'd lost-the one who would be returning to their midst tonight, even if he did not know it.

The warrior hadn't been able to sit down the entire time, and was shuffling his feet and grunting to himself, cracking his knuckles, clearly preparing for the battle ahead. Misdirected eyes usually full of confusion were now clear with pure determination.

And the leader-a sight in the kitchen, himself, as he almost never ate with them. He was standing back near the door, seeming less tall and intimidating than usual, luminous eyes having gone dull. He held his staff before him crossways, as if trying to protect or shield himself. He said nothing, waiting for his assistant to speak first.

It was as if the administrator sensed this need, as she set down the clipboard filled with scribbles in red pencil, dully relating the information on it.

"'K, so. O'Chunks has section one, and that's where most of my people are gonna be. Mimi's got the second section, all set up, uncluding basement levels. Dimentio...I don't even wanna _know_ what Dimentio did to section three, but yeah, he's there with the magiblot corps and some of my elite guys. Myself and the Count are gonna be stationed in the main hall. I'll be getting updates throughout this, don't contact me unless it's a serious emergency. Any and all necessary power is authorized to _stop these heroes_ , just make sure they stay on track so they don't find an alternate way around. We need to keep track of their move and be prepared. Also, brief reminder that a member of their group looks like a former member of ours-do NOT be fooled and do NOT engage, he will attack you."

She took a second to breathe, before looking back worriedly at the leader. "Anything...uh...anything to add, sir...?"

He remained still, deep in thought for a second, looking at no one. He seemed very troubled...and unbelievably sad.

A cleared throat echoed through the silence as he glanced up, the enthusiasm in his voice not reaching his expression.

"Dearest minions of Count Bleck! A new world is upon us! In a short while, the Void will complete its work and we will have a blank canvas on which to create our new and better universe. The heroes have proven stronger than expected, yes, but they will be no match for us. So declares Count Bleck!"

They cheered as best they could.

"Now, Count Bleck knows you have all spent a great deal of time preparing for this moment. But! We must remain cautious and alert! We are so very close to our goal. We cannot have it fall apart thanks to these meddling heroes, scoffed Count Bleck...And Count Bleck knows you are strong enough to take them down!"

Nastasia couldn't help but grimace at all of the Count's third-person talk-she could've sworn he was getting better about avoiding that, and secretly hoping it was a sign of some sort of return to sanity. But no. She was stupid for even thinking for a second it was possible.

All she wanted was _some hope._

The Count seemed to lose a lot of his bluster, appearing to slump once again. She noticed that his hold on his staff was so tight his hands were shaking. But he swallowed it down and continued anyways, now much quieter.

"You, all of you. Count Bleck's loyal minion taskforce. You have served C-agh, you have served _me_ very well. C-I...am very proud of all of you."

That caught the secretary's attention. She turned fully to look at him, ready to jump in if he needed help. But he made a gesture indicating that he was fine, even as he was staring at the ground with the haggard look of a man who'd seen too much and just wanted it to be over.

"...serve me well one last time."

He looked up, and at each of them in turn. She couldn't imagine what was going through his head right now, knowing what was about to happen. She herself had been ill for most of the day-and, truthfully, the past week-with the feeling that _something_ was going to happen, more than just the destruction of the worlds.

But she couldn't speak now. It would do no good.

"...This will all be over soon. Yes...very soon..." Count Bleck muttered to himself, pulling the brim of his hat down over his eyes with one hand. He remained that way for a moment, before flinging out his hands to the sides in an attempt to replicate his usual energy. "Now go, my mimions! Off to your stations, and see these heroes defeated...so commands Count Bleck!"

 _"Hail Bleck!"_ came the call from the other four, with varying degrees of enthusiasm and even sincerity.

The warrior barreled out of the room so fast that he shook the ground a bit with his footsteps, and the shapeshifter skipped by, giving them a wave and a wish for good luck-and even blowing a kiss at the Count-before teleporting away.

The magician, however, took a bit longer to leave. He remained at the table for a few moments longer, silently staring into it as if it had all the answers to his problems. Then, he floated past them out the door, though not before giving them a very intent look and a _very_ odd smile.

"Yes, yes. Like at a great theatrical drama...it's about to be curtains~"

He chuckled to himself as he drifted off down the hall, Nastasia's gaze following him suspiciously. That was an oddly normal simile for him. She would've expected some bizarre comparison to a football game or an airplane queue. That only made her stomach turn worse, for those reasons she couldn't for the life of her put her finger on.

As soon as eyes were no longer on her, she let out a long-suffering sigh and moved over to stand by her Count's left side, where she was meant to be. She leaned her back against the wall, forgetting her clipboard on the table as she wrapped one arm around herself, very tightly, as if trying to hold herself together. She closed her eyes and tucked her chin to her chest, the troubled feelings in her heart now showing on her face.

She didn't understand. She didn't have much, if any, 'conventional' magic. So how could she know what was going to happen? But what other explanation was there? And why couldn't she understand it clearly?

She hated it when things were vague.

A soft clearing of the throat made her jump, and she turned to look up into her Count's face. His eyes were dullened and dim, shining out more blue than their typical amber. He looked as if he were in pain, with one hand holding his staff, the other on his chest, over where a human's heart would be.

"...Nastasia." His voice was missing something it usually had, and it made her heart jump-it was missing that maddened undertone, that unpredictability he'd had ever since taking the book. "Come, follow C-I...mean..." Another clearing of the throat that almost sounded awkward. "...Will you walk with...me?"

He seemed to have trouble getting the words out properly, and she could only imagine that internal struggle. Her breath caught in a sudden rush of hope.

"Uh..." Nastasia was almost afraid to ask the silent question, to speak the name, "...L-Lord Blumiere?"

Her former friend turned to her with eyes full of sorrow rather than insanity.

He nodded, once.

That was all she needed to know.

Biting her lip so hard she could taste blood, if only to avoid letting all the emotions out, she pivoted on a heel. He followed after as she left the kitchen and turned down the hall, as if he were the inferior and _she_ were the leader. Nastasia's mind was racing. She knew he'd have these moments-those times where he'd be more himself, more lucid and less of the raving lunatic the Dark Prognosticus had turned him into. They were rare, and had only gotten rarer. They never lasted long. But...she couldn't be sure, but it almost looked as if he were actively trying to keep the dark powers that had settled within him at bay.

It had to be important. She wouldn't miss the opportunity.

"Blumiere..." she said, speaking quietly even though there was no one around. She looked up at him, anxious eyes showing above her glasses. "I still don't get it. You're about to destroy the one thing you wanted to save..."

Blumiere waved a hand dismissively, sighing. "It is...it is as I told you, Nastasia. There is literally _no possible way_ for me to stop this. Not with me remaining alive."

"...There...I can't believe that."

"Nastasia. It has become a part of me. My existence and that of the Chaos Heart are linked together. Either way, one of us will have to die. But...that is not why I wanted to speak to you."

Nastasia rose a brow, suspicion creeping in. He seemed to want to get off the subject, and made a big point of him needing to die. The gears were definitely turning in her head, so to speak, but she didn't like the conclusions she was coming to.

She swallowed hard-she always found it so hard to talk when he gave her that intense, searching look. It was as if he could see right into her soul. "U-um...yeah...what is it?"

A few moments passed without him speaking, Nastasia practically needing to run to keep up with his travel speed. It reminded her of all the time they'd spent wandering together looking for _that human girl,_ the one he really loved. He'd take detours along the way if he saw something that intrigued him, stop by cities, watch like an excited child she'd have to struggle to keep from losing. It reminded her of when that had begun to fade-when his movements had become less sharp, when his eyes had lost that wonder about everything his Timpani had once bestowed on him.

Blumiere took a deep breath, releasing it slowly. "...You could have stopped this at any time. I was meaning to ask; why didn't you?"

Nastasia blinked, frowning in confusion. "I don't know what you mean, sir..."

"You know exactly what I mean." He gestured at her with one hand, and after a moment of confusion, Nastasia realized he was mainly pointing at her _glasses_ -or, more accurately for what he was implying, her eyes.

Hands flew up to the frames, and brief surprise flashed across her face. "What? I'd never!" She sounded almost hurt.

"Why not? You could have seen the path I was going down...and made me forget that was my path. I could have forgotten about her, and you...well."

Nastasia blushed-she didn't want him to bring that up, she'd hoped he'd forgotten what she'd admitted. "And I know you have been troubled," he continued, "so I just wonder...why didn't you?"

The answer was so simple she didn't even need to think about it.

"Because I trusted you, and I wanted you to be able to trust me. I made a promise to myself when I said I'd follow you that...well...you know...I...wouldn't do that..."

"Even if it meant where it all ends?"

"...yeah." Nastasia clasped her hands together tightly, staring down at her feet, "Listen, I...I'm not gonna lie and say I never thought about it. But..." She looked back up at him, straight into his eyes, without even the glasses to shield the care she held for him, "...If I did anything, it would all be fake. Even if I...uh...say...made you think you loved...s-somebody else, that would be...all fake and I don't think I could live with myself knowing I did that even if you never found out...You deserve her. You're meant to be together..."

A sad, bitter smile crossed her face, and the expression was mirrored on his.

"I...I am sorry."

"For what, sir?"

"...For...all of this. You should not have had to be put through so much simply because of my mistake."

"That was part of the deal too, you know...I'm sorry, too."

"You have nothing to apologize for." He stopped, grabbing her shoulder and turning her around. She nearly choked on air, but managed to contain herself. Just two friends talking. A final conversation between two very good friends. "I wished to tell you that it is true no one can replace Timpani. But you are irreplacable to me as well. You have...been with C-agh, me, been with _me_ through all of this, even when I would have let you walk away...I am sorry I cannot care about you the way I do her, but just know that I consider you my...my dearest friend. Thank you for everything."

It sounded way too much like a goodbye.

The look in his eye told her he knew something she didn't, and she hated that. But she couldn't accuse him through the lump in her throat.

She hadn't heard him speak with that kind of sincerity in years.

Nastasia turned away before she could choke.

"...We should get over there."

Immediately, she felt bad for dismissing it so quickly, and refused to look back to see his expression. Hopefully he'd understand like he had before. After all, he'd known her when she'd been far less prone to emotion than even now. When she'd simply been too _scared._

Silently, the two outcasts of the Tribe of Darkness continued through the halls they'd come to know so well, for they'd been there the longest. It had long ago been an empty castle with just the two of them, both having shut themselves off in their own ways. It had felt so big, and empty. And now Nastasia could feel that emptiness pressing down on her again, like it had the first night she'd spent facedown on a bed in the room she'd decided to take for her own, trying to figure out whether or not she should be crying over the things she'd seen that day, or whether she should just try her best to never feel anything again for the rest of her life because it always ended up hurting.

She knew they were near the end when they reached a long set of stairs. His cape made a swishing noise against them as he passed slightly over, while her high-heels made their typical _click-click-click_ everyone in the castle knew well _._

There was the door. She opened it for him. He nodded at her.

The main room was empty other than the platforms, and though she was early enough to meetings to see it this way many times, it was somehow more eerie now knowing it would never be filled. That those who had once stood here were back out there under the impression that there'd be a world to live in after this. And Mimi was still young and O'Chunks thought this was his chance to make up for the things he'd messed up and _when had she gotten to care about these people,_ that wasn't in her job description.

She'd failed her job in a lot of ways, she mused.

The two took their positions on their pedestals, so familiar to them. But Nastasia could not stand strong for that moment. She slumped down on the pedestal, leaning her legs over the side and idly crossing her ankles, hands in her lap as she stared to the ground.

He finally asked.

"...Are you afraid?"

She had to think about it.

"...Kind of. But more because...you work so hard and it all just comes to nothing, you know? That's what bothers me. I should've been ready, though, I've known..."

He gave a soft laugh, so unlike the harsh cackle she was so used to hearing by now. "It's perfectly all right to be afraid, Nastasia. I am, too."

She heard his cape shift as he moved.

She went completely rigid when he embraced her.

It wasn't the first time-it had happened a long, long time ago, when he'd been a different man. But he seemed so desperately to be trying to get some form of comfort, and she needed it too, and she leaned against him as best she could and tried not to cry because she knew if she started she wasn't going to be able to stop.

They remained like that for five full seconds, just two friends forgetting about all the horrors that had happened and the world falling down around them.

And then it was over.

He stood, cleared his throat, and became still. She glanced up, and flinched slightly to see him staring off into space with his eyes that unnatural amber once again, with the cold determination she knew to be the only thing she could predict of him anymore.

One of the few things that had stayed. He _would_ complete his goal, whatever that goal had changed to be by this point. No matter what happened. He was a man who kept his promises.

That was one of the many reasons why she'd loved him.

And not another word was spoken, the two kept company only by the roar of the worlds-devouring Void as they prepared themselves for the end.


End file.
